


Love, Hanschen

by I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blackmail, Coming Out, Emails, Hanschen and Moritz are (step)brothers because I say so but that’s not very important, Hanschen’s parents are not wonderful like Simon’s but rest assured his friends are good, Homophobia, Love Simon/Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda AU, M/M, Parental Abuse (mentioned), Secret Identities, being outed, excessive vineyard scene/woybr references, minimal use of homophobic slurs, no one is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them/pseuds/I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them
Summary: Hanschen has a secret that no one in his small, conservative community knows: he’s not straight, and he’s falling in love with the guy he’s been emailing despite the fact that they don’t even know each other’s real names. Oh, yeah, and he’s being blackmailed.





	Love, Hanschen

**Author's Note:**

> Knowledge of Love, Simon/SVTHSA isn’t necessary. Kind of spoilery for Simon, but they’re definitely different. Warning that there’s some homophobia including one use (and some mentioned uses) of the f slur and some heavily implied physical abuse (about 2/3 way through) but it’s not a huge part. Thanks to my friends for putting up with me never shutting up about this while I was writing it. Feel free to ask about the names or anything else in a comment or on tumblr (sparrowsfallingfromthesky)! I hope you like the fic :)

“Listen, I’m just saying, I think she was looking at you,” says Otto as they walk over to the lunch table.

Hanschen snorts. “I believe you, but I’m not interested.”

“What! Dude, she’s so pretty.”

Shaking his head, Hanschen sits down across from Ernst, who looks between them with an unreadable expression. Hanschen nods at him, and he blushes and looks down at his tray.

Hanschen mentally shrugs and bites into his sandwich. This tends to be about how his interactions with Ernst go. They’ve known each other for like ten years, but they barely ever talk. According to their friends, Ernst can be pretty funny when you get him talking, but whenever Hanschen is around he goes totally quiet. He’s nice, though. And cute. That’s the one thing Hanschen knows for sure about Ernst Robel: he’s really, really cute.

Georg slides into his seat next to Otto, and Otto says, “I think Angelika likes Hanschen, but he won’t ask her out.”

“Oh, why not?” Georg asks around a mouthful of pizza. “She’s great.”

For a moment, Hanschen considers telling the truth. Just – _“Yeah, she’s beautiful, but I’m bisexual, and I’ve been talking to this guy over email for a few months, and I don’t know who he is, but I think I’m falling in love with him.”_

He doesn’t say any of that, obviously. He just shrugs, careful to keep his practiced, chill, smug mask firmly in place, and lets Melchior and Moritz’s arrival at the table change the subject.

 

*

 

There’s this blog where people post about the school. That’s where the thing with Dogstar started. The blog is open to anyone, to talk about anything, and it’s all anonymous. People can get kind of nasty, and it’s a wonder the administration hasn’t tried to shut it down. Hanschen kind of hates it, but the bitchy part of him that likes knowing all the drama is kind of obsessed with it. He scrolls through sometimes just to laugh at what people think is important. It’s usually stupid shit like complaining about how much homework the Latin teacher assigns and making fun of people’s clothes.

But this one time, someone posted something really different.

_I have a secret. It’s weird, walking around school, because I know that what people see when they look at me is so far from the whole picture. Everyone sees that I’m usually quiet, and they think “he’s shy” and they’re partially right, but they don’t know that it’s also that I’m being careful to hide part of myself._

_Because here’s the thing: I’m gay._

_I think about coming out sometimes, but the idea scares me so much I have trouble imagining doing anything more public than this post, and I’m only able to make myself post this because it’s anonymous. I’m not ashamed of who I am, but if you don’t know, our school and our whole community is pretty conservative. I don’t know how any of you would react. I don’t even know how you’ll react to this post._

_You know how when we were younger it used to be a popular thing to sneak into the vineyard and play hide and seek? You would run between the rows of grapes and look around corners and through gaps in the leaves and duck down and kneel in the dirt. Your heart would be beating so fast, from the running and the exhilaration of knowing that at any moment you could be found. Maybe one of your friends would find your spot and you’d both laugh and they would make fun of you for losing but you’d all keep playing with your friends and eat some stolen grapes so it would all be fine. Or maybe you would get caught by one of the workers and get yelled at, and your friends would be mad at you for spoiling the fun and your parents would lecture you._

_Being gay is like that. Sometimes knowing and loving this part of my identity makes me feel so alive, and then other times it’s like I’m a second away from being caught. And maybe if my friends and family found out it would all be fine, or maybe it would ruin everything. So I’m always hiding. And that racing heart and mind, that exhilaration, that terror, is there in the background of every moment of every day._

_-Dogstar_

Hanschen stared at the post for a long time, heart beating so frantically he could swear he could hear it, reading the words again and again. There was another queer student at his school. Someone else like him. Sure, this Dogstar might be pretty different from him, it’s not like he talked about any of his interests, but god, Hanschen could relate to the vineyard stuff. He brushed tears from his eyes. He wasn’t alone.

Dogstar had left an email address, and Hanschen found himself opening gmail without fully processing what he was doing. On an account that he never used that couldn’t be easily tracked to him, he started typing.

 

_Dear Dogstar,_

_I’m like you. I have a secret too._

He wrote a bit about how he’s bi and Dogstar’s words really resonated with him, and Dogstar responded to express what a relief it was to know he wasn’t alone. After that, they just kept emailing, and now it’s been months and they’re still going. They talk about pretty much anything: when and how they figured out they weren’t straight, books, the news, music, movies and tv, whether they think their families would be okay with their sexualities. They agreed that they would keep their identities secret, and they’re careful with how many details about their lives they mention. Despite the secrecy, Hanschen has never felt so deeply connected to another person. Dogstar doesn’t know his name, but he knows who he really is, the parts he usually doesn’t show, and that’s a big deal. Somewhere along the way, he’s started falling for the boy behind these emails, and he could swear some of their exchanges are flirtatious, so it can’t just be him. So sure, he wonders sometimes who it is, and fantasizes about getting together in real life, but he’s happy just having a friend he can really talk to, so he keeps emailing and doesn’t say a word.

 

*

 

 

_Dear Achilles,_

_I think about the future a lot. My parents expect me to go into my father’s profession and marry a nice girl and be the perfect straight Christian boy forever. I don’t know, Achilles. I think parts of their plan for me wouldn’t be so bad. If I took the career path they want, I would be involved in the community, which I think I would like. But you know those movies where the kid is like “it’s not my dream, dad, it’s yours”? it’s kind of like that._

_Plus, you know. I’m not sure how it would all fit with the whole gay thing. If I could just do it all except with a husband instead of a wife that would be kind of cool, but I can’t really see my parents or other people being okay with that._

_When I go to my parents’ church I feel like everyone is so serious and virtuous, and they’re all waiting for me to become like that too, and I don’t know how to do that, especially when I don’t know if they could ever see me as virtuous if they knew who I really am. It’s not even really one of those awful homophobic churches you hear about, but I’m always so scared about what might be going unsaid._

_If I tell my parents I’m gay, I feel like the future I’ve always expected will go away, but if I don’t tell them, my future will be nothing but more lying._

_Yours,_

_Dogstar_

_Dear Dogstar,_

_Why think about the future at all? I sometimes think of the future as like milk that people could churn or spill if they choose to fret, but I’m sure we could learn to skim off the cream – just enjoy what we have now._

_Listen, Dogstar, I know that’s a stupid metaphor and it sounds like I’m making light of all your concerns, but I’m convinced adults are all just faking their composure too. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be virtuous, but it’s kind of heavy, and you’re still young, and maybe those people at church aren’t as pious as they look either._

_All I could hope for the future is waking up in a room with fancy curtains and pillows, with someone beautiful lying beside me. I can’t make myself care about church like you can. Maybe one day I’ll be rich, and I can make god a monument. (you’re going to say something about false idols. Don’t bother. The only thing false is people who would say that you can’t be valid in the eyes of god because you’re gay. You’re worth a thousand of them, Dogstar.)_

_Let’s not be sad. Let’s just focus on how beautiful certain moments are now. Take tonight. We’re emailing, right? So you’re talking to someone who cares about you, someone who understands you. Maybe in thirty years, if you remember this at all, you’ll look back on it and laugh about how ridiculous it was. You’ll say “I can’t believe I took advice from someone who makes metaphors about the future being like milk.” Or maybe you’ll look back and cry. Or maybe you’ll think it was beautiful. But what matters is that everything is beautiful to us_ right now. _There’s an amazing sunset this evening, can you see it? And the bells of the church are so peaceful, even if it’s not always peaceful for us inside, and if I was with you in person I would hold your hand, gentle as the wind whispering through the leaves of the trees outside. Open your window, Dogstar. We can experience this moment together, and it’s beautiful, and we don’t have to be sad._

_Your Achilles_

*

 

 

One Saturday Hanschen goes to the library to work on a history project. He’s taking a break, checking his email, when Ernst walks over to his table.

“Hey, Hanschen,” he says softly.

“Ernst,” Hanschen says, casually flipping his phone over so the email he’s typing isn’t visible. He clears his throat. “Hi. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks, what about you?”

“Fine. Do you want to sit?”

“Oh, sure.” He slides into the seat across from Hanschen, plopping his bag in the chair next to him. “Are you working on the essay for Mr. Blodgett?”

“No, a project for history with Starver. I haven’t started the essay yet. Do you know what you’re going to write about?”

“Maybe something about that passage we read in class about the mirrors.”

“He’ll like that. You could tie in the thing at the end with the reflection in the lake, too.”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks, Hanschen.”

They smile at each other, and fall into a silence. Ernst pulls out his book and laptop and starts typing, and Hanschen goes back to taking notes on a book about World War I.

After about half an hour of working in peace, Hanschen has stopped feeling on edge enough to pick up his phone again and finish his email. He hesitates for a moment, finding himself glancing at Ernst. Somehow it seems wrong to be talking to Dogstar when he’s with Ernst, and vice versa, like he’s somehow cheating on them both, which is ridiculous since it’s not like he’s actually dating either of them. Hell, it’s not like he and Ernst even talk, usually. The conversation about homework was longer than most of their interactions. But he and Ernst keep accidentally nudging each other’s feet under the table, and he could swear Ernst left his foot there longer than was really necessary the last time, and he keeps blushing when they make eye contact. It can’t all be in Hanschen’s head. And okay, yes, Hanschen kind of has a crush on him.

But _Dogstar._ Ernst might be cute, but what Hanschen and Dogstar have is deeper. He presses send.

He can feel his heart beat speed up. He doesn’t usually email Dogstar when he’s in public. He knows there’s no way anyone could see or know what he’s been doing, but he quickly closes out of the email app and shoves his phone in his pocket.

He’s probably still running on stupid adrenaline and paranoia a few seconds later when Ernst gets a notification and looks at his phone, so he probably imagines Ernst’s eyes widening as he processes whatever message he’s gotten and him glancing quickly at Hanschen then back at the screen.

He doesn’t check his phone again while he’s at the library. He and Ernst work on their homework for another hour, before Ernst closes his laptop and says, “I should head back home.”

“Me too, I’ll walk with you.”

Ernst flashes a surprised smile at him. They both pack up and head out. Ernst only lives a few blocks away. As they walk, Hanschen tells him about Melchior’s most recent act of rebellion in Latin, and is pleased when he makes him laugh. They say goodbye outside Ernst’s house, and Hanschen walks the rest of the way to his own house.

When he finally pulls out his phone again, he has a new message from Dogstar.

 

*

 

_Dear Dogstar,_

_Did you know that there was a homosexual emancipation movement after WWI? Basically gay people were like “we fought for this country and some of us got wounded and died for you so the least you can do is not treat us like criminals and give us rights.” I found an article about it when I was doing research for history. I thought about doing my project on it just to see how Mr. Starver would react but then I thought better not. There’s no sense rocking the boat._

_I guess that’s always the conclusion I come to. Don’t rock the boat. Just stay quiet, kiss some ass, laugh when other people laugh even if it’s not funny, grit your teeth so you don’t say anything out of line, work with the status quo instead of letting it depress you or trying to shake it up._

_I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Maybe because it’s what’s keeping me from coming out, and god knows that’s on my mind all the time, especially since talking to you. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I mean, I wouldn’t be like Melchior, getting in arguments with teachers and telling everyone god is dead, but would I really risk so much if I spoke out once in a while? I tell myself that the whole letting the system work for me thing is just being smart, but I don’t know, maybe I’m just being scared._

_Maybe I should stop being so fucking scared._

_I’m still not going to write a research presentation on homosexuality._

_Love,_

_Achilles_

_Dear Achilles,_

_I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being scared. It’s not like there’s no reason. We both know our community isn’t accepting of people who are different. Acting out (if you’re not Melchior) gets punished. I’m obviously scared too. We wouldn’t be emailing if we weren’t both scared. I think your method of going along with everything is just a way to survive, and it’s brave for queer people to keep on surviving in a homophobic culture._

_That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ever be more traditionally brave. We should definitely speak out sometimes. I definitely struggle with it, but it’s a good idea._

_You’re probably right that it would be a bad idea to write that paper, though._

_Love,_

_Dogstar_

_P.S. You know you just seriously narrowed down who you are by saying you’re in Mr. Starver’s history class, right? I don’t know if you did that intentionally or not. Maybe you did, and it’s part of the whole trying not to be so scared thing. I can appreciate that. I’m still not ready for you to know who I am though._

 

*

 

“Hey! Hanschen, wait up,” calls Reinhold as Hanschen is walking down the hall to his locker after school one day.

Hanschen slows. “What?”

“Let’s talk somewhere more quiet,” Reinhold says, and there’s an edge to his voice that makes Hanschen look at him sharply.

He knows Reinhold, of course; it’s a small town, so they’ve all been going to school together forever. But they’re not close. They’re in such wildly different groups of friends, classes, and activities it’s almost comical. Hanschen has never hated him, but he has also never felt a need to spend more time than necessary in his presence. They say hello to each other in the halls occasionally, and they sat near each other the few times Hanschen’s had detention, but they don’t talk. They definitely don’t talk about anything important enough to warrant privacy.

So Hanschen has a bad feeling about the whole situation as they cut into a less-used hallway. He tries to  put on a cool face, leaning faux-casually against a random locker. “What’s up, Reinhold?”

“Not much,” Reinhold says cheerfully. “Just, I was wondering about your cousin.”

Hanschen blinks. “Thea or Melitta?”

“Thea. You’re pretty close, right?”

“We’re friends, sure.”

“Cool. And she’s single, isn’t she?”

“Yes…”

Reinhold grins. “Do you think you could help me get with her?”

“Get with… You want to go out with Thea?”

“Well, yeah, man, have you seen her?”

“She’s my cousin.”

“Whatever, not the point. Yes, I like her. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Why would I do that?”

A smirk spreads across Reinhold’s face. “I used the computer in the library after you on Wednesday.”

It takes a moment for Hanschen to get the significance of that. It’s a public computer. Lots of people use it. Who cares? But then he slowly realizes that the only way Reinhold would know Hanschen had been using it would be if Hanschen had forgotten to log out. And then he remembers what he was using the computer for: checking his email. The _secret_ email. He usually never used that account on public computers, or in public at all. Definitely not at school. But he and Dogstar had been in the middle of a spirited debate about books since that morning, and he wanted to continue it, but his phone died, so he went onto the school computer, just for a few minutes.

He remembers now that right after sending his email, he overheard Moritz and Ernst commiserating about Latin, and he went over to help them. He can see himself being distracted and leaving the computer logged in, maybe even with his email still open…

He stares at Reinhold, blood draining from his face.

Reinhold nods, clearly seeing Hanschen’s thought process. “Yeah, you left your email up, and I wasn’t going to read anything, but I happened to see a couple things that caught my curiosity, so I just looked back through a few, and what I found was pretty interesting.”

Hanschen feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He closes his hands into fists and says, “You had no fucking right to read my private emails.”

“Hey, I didn’t know what they were.”

“That’s not the point!”

Reinhold puts his hands in the air. “You’re right, it’s not, but it’s done. And hey, I know some people would have a problem with it, but I don’t!”

“Thanks,” Hanschen says sarcastically.

“And I really don’t want to have to show anyone.”

“ _Show anyone?_ You took screenshots? What the fuck, Reinhold, why would you do that? Delete them.”

“I can’t do that. Look, Hanschen, we can help each other out here, but I know you’re not going to do it out of the goodness of your heart. It would be really easy to make a post on the blog right now, but I’m not going to unless I have to. I really like Thea, and I know you can drop in a good word for me here and there. Invite me along when you hang out. It’s that easy. We don’t have to have a problem here.”

Hanschen’s so angry he’s shaking a little. “You’re going to blackmail me? Seriously?”

“Will you do it or not?”

“It doesn’t look like I have much of a fucking choice, if you’re going to out me to the whole fucking school!”

“Great. Give me your phone so I can add my number.” He does, reluctantly, and after handing it back Reinhold says, “I’ve got to go, but I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon.” He winks and swaggers away, leaving Hanschen alone in the hallway.

Hanschen leans his head back against the locker and puts his hands over his face, and stands there for several long minutes trying to compose himself.

 

*

 

He knows he should tell Dogstar that someone knows about their emails. He deserves to know his privacy has been breached. And if Reinhold releases the screenshots to the school, he’ll be as exposed as Hanschen, even if his name isn’t attached.

But if Hanschen tells him, he might freak out. He’s been so clear that he doesn’t want anyone, even Hanschen, to know who he is. If he finds out that there’s a chance people could find out about the emails, he might cut their communication off. And he might be angry at Hanschen for being so careless.

Hanschen can’t lose Dogstar.

He knows it’s wrong, but he keeps emailing him like nothing has changed.

 

*

 

Hanschen hates himself for it, but he approaches Thea the next day and asks if she wants to hang out.

“Sure! Melitta and I were thinking about going to the park after school today. Do you want to come?”

“Sounds great.” He clears his throat and says, “Hey, would it be cool if Reinhold joined?”

She stares at him. “Since when do you hang out with Reinhold?”

“Oh, we’ve talked a little recently. He’s. Nice.” He grits his teeth. He’s going to have to get better at this if he wants to convince Reinhold he’s trying.

“Uh, okay,” she says. “I don’t see why he can’t come, if you like him.”

“Thanks, Thea. I’ll let him know. You should talk to him when we go out, who knows, maybe you’ll like him too.”

Maybe she will. Probably not – Hanschen really can’t imagine a universe in which Thea would fall for someone like him – but maybe. But even if Reinhold somehow manages to charm her, Hanschen is going to know that he’s a blackmailer, and willing to out someone, and manipulative. Exactly the kind of person he would never want his cousin or any of his friends to have to interact with. That’s who Hanschen is going to have to set her up with if he doesn’t want his biggest secret – and Dogstar’s biggest secret – spread to everyone he knows.

She smiles, still looking kind of bemused, and they go to their classes, and Hanschen sits with a boiling pit of guilt in his stomach for the rest of the day.

 

 

They meet up outside the school. Hanschen ends up driving everyone to the park, and after a look from Reinhold he asks Melitta to sit in the passenger seat so Thea and Reinhold are in the back. Thea keeps shooting him weird looks he can see from the rear view mirror, but Reinhold seems pleased, and tries engage her in a conversation that, from what Hanschen can decipher, seems to be about dog breeding. Hanschen sighs internally and makes a mental note to talk to him about that later. For the moment, he and Melitta just make awkward eye contact and try not to laugh.

In the park, the four of them walk around aimlessly, trying to pretend it’s not awkward. The girls take some selfies by a fountain and Reinhold manages to insert himself into a few. Hanschen keeps having to come up with things to talk about and then deliberately asking Thea and Reinhold questions so the conversation doesn’t die out.

They’re there for a tortuous hour, until Melitta finally says, “I should really go home and do homework.”

Hanschen jumps up from the bench he’s been sitting on. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Reinhold steps closer to Thea and offers, “If you want to stay longer, my house is walking distance from here, so we could just head over there in a bit to get my car and I can bring you home.”

“Oh, uh, that’s really nice,” says Thea, “But I have homework too, so I should probably get going. And Melitta and I are going to the same place so it would be silly to make both of you make trips, especially since we’re on Hanschen’s way and completely out of yours.”

“If you’re sure.” Reinhold shrugs, but Hanschen can tell he’s disappointed.

They say their goodbyes, and Hanschen and the girls head out. In the car, Thea turns to Hanschen and says, “What the hell, Hansi?”

Hanschen sighs. “Look, I’m sorry, I know that was awkward. He grows on you.”

“Yeah, like mold, maybe,” Melitta mutters.

“He’s really not that bad,” Hanschen lies. “If you just give him a chance you might end up liking him.”

“Whatever,” says Thea, and they fall into an uncomfortable silence that lasts until he drops them off.

 

*

 

_Dear Achilles,_

_I can’t believe you think Othello is the best Shakespeare play. I may not be a Shakespeare expert or anything, but Midsummer Night’s Dream, come on. It’s so much easier to understand, and it’s funny. You’re the one who says you somehow know that adults call each other asses, I would have thought you would be all over that Bottom stuff. Plus, like, magic._

_Love,_

_Dogstar_

_Dear Dogstar,_

_Not to sound like a pretentious dick or anything, but Midsummer is what people say is their favorite if they haven’t read most of the plays and don’t want to sound cliché by saying Romeo and Juliet. Othello is so compelling. You’ve got jealousy, betrayal, secrecy, misunderstandings, Iago who’s just such an incredible villain. And you can’t say you don’t get chills from the “Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?” scene. I’ll take that over magic any day._

_Love,_

_Achilles_

_Dear Achilles,_

_You’re proving my point! Midsummer Night’s Dream appeals to a more general audience who might not want to read or be able to understand other Shakespeare plays! Shouldn’t theatre and literature be accessible? You’re telling me Shakespeare only wanted “pretentious dicks” to like his plays? I find that hard to believe. Also, jealousy, betrayal, secrecy, misunderstandings? You’ve got all of that in Midsummer too. And you don’t always need a big evil villain for a compelling story. I’ll stick with Puck, thanks._

_Love,_

_Dogstar_

_PS Okay I’ll admit it, I haven’t actually read Othello. I promise I will soon, but just for you._

*

 

The trip to the park is Thursday, and Hanschen doesn’t hear from Reinhold on Friday or over the weekend, so he kind of hopes he’s decided to forget about the whole thing, but he’s at Hanschen’s locker before lunch on Monday.

Hanschen sighs. “Do you want to come sit with my friends?”

“Why thank you,” Reinhold says with a smirk. “I would.”

 

Everyone at the lunch table looks confused when Hanschen walks over to the table with Reinhold, except Thea and Melitta, who glare at him, but no one says anything, except to awkwardly say hi. Reinhold, who Hanschen is realizing with alarm is one of the least subtle people in the world – which is saying something since Hanschen is friends with Melchior – takes the seat next to Thea, which is usually Anna’s, so there’s some awkward shuffling of the seating arrangement.

Hanschen ends up next to Ernst, who’s reading a book. He glances over at the cover and says, “I love Shakespeare. Is that just for fun?”

Ernst looks up, startled. “Oh, um. Yes?”

“Nice. Do you have a favorite?”

Ernst takes a minute to answer, looking at Hanschen with an odd expression. “I don’t know,” he says. Something about his voice sounds like he’s lying, but that would be a weird thing to lie about so Hanschen figures he’s just imagining it, and offers, “I like Othello,” before turning his attention back to mediating the Reinhold situation without waiting for a response.

 

*

 

On Wednesday, the group plus Reinhold goes out for pancakes. On Saturday, the group plus Reinhold goes to the movies. Reinhold continues to sit at their lunch table at school, and Hanschen sometimes forces himself to casually mention Reinhold and his supposed great qualities. Hanschen’s friends are indulgent, but unimpressed.

The next Friday, Reinhold asks Thea out, and she says no.

 

*

 

Sunday night, Hanschen is finishing a Latin assignment when Moritz knocks on his door, looking pale. It’s not uncommon; Moritz is usually anxious about _something._ Still, Hanschen invites him into his room, and once they’re both sitting, he gives him his full attention.

“Have you been on the blog?”

“The school blog? Not recently.”

“I think you should go look.”

Hanschen frowns, but pulls out his phone, which has been off so he can’t get distracted. When he turns it on, he sees with alarm that he has a lot of notifications. He tries to ignore them, and brings up the page.

And freezes, because the top post mentions his name.

He swallows and reads the post, and as he feared, it’s outing him. It starts with “I, Hanschen Rilow,” but the crudeness and grammar make it pretty clear it’s not him. Still, Hanschen knows people will believe it. Reinhold – because who the fuck else could it be – hasn’t attached the screenshots of the emails, but he’s referenced them with enough specificity that it’s obviously true. Hanschen reports the post, but it already has dozens of notes, and probably a lot more have seen it or heard about it.

He silences his phone and slowly places it facedown on his desk. He puts his face in his hands. He doesn’t look at Moritz. They sit in silence for several long minutes.

“Hanschen,” Moritz whispers eventually. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“Okay, well, is it true?”

Hanschen sighs. “I mean, the post says I’m gay, and I’m not, I’m bi, but yeah, close enough.”

There’s a pause, then, “I support you.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to deny it? Not that – I’m not saying you should be ashamed – just, would it be easier for you at school if you treated the post like a joke?”

“The idea has already been planted. People won’t shut up about it no matter what I say. I’ll probably just try to ignore people in school until they move on.”

“What about our parents?”

“Moritz, no offense, but I kind of don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Oh, right, no, that’s understandable. I’ll leave you alone, I guess. Um, let me know if you need anything.”

Hanschen doesn’t say anything else. Moritz awkwardly lets himself out. When he’s gone, Hanschen lies on his bed and stares numbly at his ceiling for an hour.

 

*

 

_From Wendla: Have you seen the post? Are you ok?_

_From Anna: is it true?  
From Anna: sorry that was rude i shouldn’t have led w that it doesnt matter are you ok_

_From Georg: duuude that post was fucked up man_

_From Martha: I saw the blog. Is there anything any of us can do to help?_

_From Otto: I guess that’s why u didn’t want to go out with angelicka lol… seriously though I’m here for u I know coming out is supposed to be really hard to do it’s shitty that someone took the choice away from u_

_From Ilse: heard about the blog thing that sucks i’m so sorry hansi do you want to hang out some time or have me beat someone up for you or get drunk let me know <3_

_From Melchior: I’m assuming the post on the school blog was not written by you. If it was, congratulations on coming out, but I have feedback on the grammar. If not, you should contact the principal and report the person or people responsible for harassment. On a different note, I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me. I am a bit hurt to be honest, since I would hope I’ve made it clear that I am very open and progressive, but I understand that it is a difficult decision to make and ultimately is not about me._

_From Thea: Please call me._

_From Melitta: Hope you’re all right! I accept you! Also, please pick up Thea’s phone calls!_

_From Ernst: I’m so sorry, Hanschen._

*

 

_Dear Hanschen,_

_So I saw the blog. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. I don’t know who outed you, although I definitely have a suspicion, but what they did is so wrong, and I’m sorry it happened to you._

_I hope it’s not weird for you that I know who you are now. To be honest, I’ve been pretty sure it was you for a while now. I didn’t want to say anything because we agreed on secrecy and because I wasn’t 100% but there were a lot of clues._

_I just want to say that I’m glad I was right. I don’t want to make this more uncomfortable than it already is, but I’ve liked you for a long time, and part of me hoped it was you._

_But I’m still not ready for you to know who I am. I’m so, so sorry, Hanschen. I know it’s not fair for me to know who you are but not the other way around, and for you to have to be out to the school all alone, but I’m just still so scared. I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Just please, give me a little more time._

_I’m sorry I can’t be there for you in person, at least not with you knowing it’s me, but I promise I’m here for you by email whenever you need me._

_Good luck at school tomorrow. I’ll be thinking about you constantly. Be strong._

_Love,_

_Dogstar_

*

 

Hanschen doesn’t answer any of his friends’ messages, not even Dogstar’s email, and he avoids his family in the morning. He doubts his parents could have heard anything this quickly, but he’d really rather not risk a conversation.

He walks into school with his head high and fists clenched, neutral expression in place like a mask. He notices several people staring at him, and hears a few whispers, but pretends he doesn’t.

In his first block class, English, most of the students in the room look up when he walks in. He ignores them and sits in his regular seat between Ernst and Martha, his two friends in the class.

“Good morning,” he says rigidly.

They both look concerned but return the greeting. After an awkward pause, Martha says, “Hanschen, we were all worried about you when you didn’t answer anyone’s messages. You did see the post, right?”

He snorts. “Kind of hard to miss.”

“Are you okay?” asks Ernst.

Hanschen sighs. “It sucks, obviously, but I’m just going to try to ignore anyone who tries to make a thing out of it. I mean, not you guys, I guess I’ll say something to everyone at lunch, but if anyone tries to start shit I’m not going to let it get to me.”

“You can really just decide not to let something bother you?”

“I can try.”

They look unconvinced, but the teacher starts talking so they let it go.

Halfway through class, Mr. Blodgett asks a question about the relationship between the two main male characters in the book, and Rupert calls out, “I bet they’re fags.”

The classroom erupts into whispers and giggles. Hanschen grits his teeth, and he notices his friends stiffen up next to him.

“Yeah, you should ask Hanschen,” crows Dieter. “I hear he knows all about that shit.”

The class continues cackling.

Mr. Blodgett looks confused, but just says, “Language, boys. While many theorists do write about homoeroticism in this novel, and I suppose Mr. Rilow has a right to contribute such misguided analysis to the discussion if he wishes, I can’t condone offensive speech.”

Ernst is almost shaking. “Unbelievable,” mutters Martha. Hanschen shakes his head.

Blodgett gets the class under control, but there’s still some snickering whenever he mentions the closeness of the men, and Hanschen feels a few crumpled up shreds of paper hit him in the back of the head. He keeps his eyes on his notes, and when class is over, he gathers his stuff and leaves as casually as he would any other day, but he doesn’t say anything when his friends quietly walk with him all the way to his next class even though neither of them is in it with him.

His second class isn’t as bad, although it’s definitely uncomfortable, but he gets some comments thrown at him in the hallway on the way to lunch even though he’s with Anna and Otto.

 

When he sits down at the lunch table, everyone else is already there, and they go quiet and turn to look at him.

He clears his throat. “So I’m bisexual.”

Everyone talks over each other to affirm him, and somehow that, not the slurs or glares, is what almost makes him break. He swallows and says, “Thanks. It means a lot that you all support me. I would have told you eventually if this hadn’t happened.”

“Do you know who posted it?” asks Anna.

He nods, and Thea glances around before asking quietly, “Was it Reinhold? Is that why you kept letting him hang out with us? Was he blackmailing you?”

“Yes. I’ve been emailing this guy, and Reinhold found out and said I had to help him get with you or he would tell everyone.”

“Hanschen, you should have told someone.”

“It’s not like I could say what he had on me, though. And I was worried that if he found out I told anyone, he would retaliate by sharing the emails with the whole school. I didn’t want to be outed, and I didn’t want the guy from the emails to be exposed either. He’s not even ready for me to know who he is, so he definitely wouldn’t want the whole school reading his private messages about his sexuality. Look, Thea, I’m sorry I involved you in this. I know I shouldn’t have messed with your life. I was just so fucking scared.”

She stands up and walks over to his seat. “Get up.” He hesitates, but does, and she pulls him into a tight hug. He releases a shaky breath and leans into her. When they pull apart, she says, “I should be apologizing, not you. I should have paid attention to how weird you were acting and realized something was wrong instead of just being annoyed. Sure, I was confused and a little angry when I realized you were trying to set me up with Reinhold, because Reinhold is an ass, but I understand why you did it. I wish you could have felt safe talking to me or someone else about what was going on in your life, but I know it must have been really hard.”

“No hard feelings?”

“Definitely not. And now we can talk about cute guys. For reference, Reinhold is not one.”

Everyone laughs and they sit down.

“Are you going to do anything now that it’s out there?” asks Georg. “Like report him or any of the other people giving you shit?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think it’s worth it unless things get worse. I don’t want to piss them off.”

Ernst leans forward and says, with more force than can usually be expected from him, “Hanschen, people were yelling slurs _in class,_ how much worse do you need to let it get?”

Melchior frowns. “Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t let that slide.”

Hanschen counters, “You know what the administration here is like, though. They’re not going to do anything. Ernst and Martha, you saw how little Blodgett cared. The principal won’t care either. They’ll call the kids in and tell them to apologize or some shit, and it won’t change anything.”

“Okay, so we take care of it ourselves.”

“Melchior, I’m not getting into a fight, and neither are you. Just let it go. If I act like it’s not getting to me they’ll get bored after a couple weeks.”

No one looks happy about it, but after a few half-hearted suggestions, they change the subject, and eat their lunch in an awkward near-silence.

 

*

 

Over the next few days, it doesn’t get worse, but it also doesn’t get better. People continue to glare at Hanschen in the halls, and any time anything remotely related to queerness is hinted at in class there’s even more mocking laughter than usual. He swears he gets “accidentally” elbowed or run into than is normal. Reinhold, the fucking coward, seems to be very carefully avoiding going anywhere near Hanschen or his friends, but Reinhold’s friends are some of the worst bullies.

Through all of it, Hanschen holds his head high, smiles at the people who are still nice to him, talks the same amount in class as he always has, turns in his assignments, and overall acts like nothing has changed.

Hanschen’s friends don’t talk about any of it, at least not with Hanschen, but he suspects they’ve communicated behind his back, because they seem to have come to an agreement that at least one person has to either walk with him between classes or be waiting at his classroom or locker. He pretends not to notice or care, but it definitely makes him feel safer and loved, and he thinks they must be able to tell how grateful he is.

 

That’s at school. Home is a different story. It’s fine at first; the only person who knows is Moritz, who stays quiet. But then his parents find out.

He’s not sure who told them. From what he can tell, some asshole at school mentioned it to their parents, who mentioned it to his.

They call him into the den Wednesday evening to confront him about it. The conversation doesn’t go well. It’s all shit like “how can we face the people at work and church” from his mother and “we should all just be glad you’re not truly my son” from his step-father, and by the time they dismiss him to his room, he has tears streaming down his face and can feel some bruises already coming in. He passes Moritz in the hall between their rooms, and they share a look that conveys that they both know things aren’t going to be easy for either of them.

 

When he walks into school with badly concealed bruises, there are even more whispers, which he ignores. His friends look horrified but don’t say anything. Martha hugs him. The assholes cruelly smirk at him but mostly stay out of his way – at least for one day. Most people avoid looking at him altogether. A few people still smile or nod when they see him, like Bobby Maler and Max von Trenk and some random girls, and it’s kind of awkward but it’s better than nothing, and he nods back and tries not to dwell too hard on wondering whether Bobby or Max could be Dogstar.

 

*

 

_Dear Dogstar,_

_Is it weird to say I’m kind of relieved? Of course there are a lot of things about being out that are fucking terrible, and I’m still pissed about how it happened, but I never thought I would be able to stop hiding this part of myself. I don’t have to worry about people finding out, because everyone already knows._

_I know you’re not ready to be out yet, and I understand that. It’s definitely scary. My parents hate me, and I know you’ve seen how people are at school. I wouldn’t judge you if you decided to never put yourself through that. If it had been up to me, I probably wouldn’t have done it either. It sure goes against the whole flying under the radar thing._

_But my friends have been so supportive, and I’m able to be more open with them than I have in years, and it honestly feels kind of great._

_Love,_

_Hanschen_

*

 

Hanschen finds a bag on his locker after school on Friday. Wendla is standing next to it, and when she sees him looking at it, she says, “It was here when I got here. I already checked for you and it’s nothing bad.” He asks if she knows who it’s from, and she says, “There’s a note, but I didn’t read it.”

He picks it up and looks inside. He finds himself smiling when he realizes it’s a shirt decorated in the style of an ancient Greek urn with two figures he’s willing to bet are Achilles and Patroclus. The idea of wearing it is very nerdy and incredibly gay. He loves it. He unfolds the typed note.

 

_Dear Hanschen,_

_I’m so happy that being able to be open about who you are is helping you, and I’m glad_ y _our friends are so supportive. I wish everything else could be easier for you. I hate hearing the things people have been saying. I hate seeing the way they look at you. I hate that your parents aren’t there for you._

_I admire you so much, Hanschen. I’ve been watching you – that sounds creepy, but you know what I mean – and I’m so amazed with how well you seem to be handling all this. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts you more than you let on, but you never let them see that it bothers you. You’re so strong._

_You’re right, I’m not ready, but I think I will be really soon, and that’s because of you. You make me brave, Hanschen._

_Until I can really be there for you in person, you can at least have this shirt to remind you that I’m on your side. I hope you like it._

_Love,_

_Dogstar_

 

When he finishes reading, he glances up at Wendla, who’s leaning against a locker and smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You just look really fond, it’s cute. Is that from your email friend?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s that going?”

“Fine. We’re both kind of shaken by the whole thing, obviously, but he wants me to know he’s there for me.”

“That’s great, Hanschen.” He nods, packing up his backpack. She holds the locker door open for him and asks, “You still don’t know who he is?”

“No, he’s not ready yet, which I can definitely understand, especially considering everything. He thinks he might be ready pretty soon, though.”

“It must be really hard. You’re both so brave though.”

“That’s what he said too.”

“He’s right. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Wendla.”

She smiles at him, and they leave school, Hanschen holding the shirt close to his chest the whole way home.

 

*

 

A couple weeks pass. Hanschen and Dogstar continue emailing like normal. Hanschen’s parents continue to be terrible, but have reached a point of mostly just refusing to speak to him. The bullying doesn’t stop although it’s lost a lot of its heat. The teachers still refuse to notice the bullshit that’s going on right in front of them. Hanschen’s friends keep walking him between classes.

Hanschen has never been the focus of so much attention, but sometimes he feels so alone.

He wishes he could hold someone’s hand.

 

*

 

_Dear Dogstar,_

_I’m going to put something out there, and I want to say right off that you shouldn’t feel pressured. I’m just rereading all our emails and thinking about how much I like you, so I thought it would be worth saying. Also I’m at Ilse’s and she gave me alcohol so I’m a little tipsy and I’m feeling brave so I’ll just ask:_

_I think we should meet._

_I hang out at the vineyard sometimes. It’s really peaceful and beautiful there and there’s this spot by the hill on the western side that’s sort of concealed from the view of most of the workers and it’s quiet and shady and lying around there helps me clear my mind. I’ll make sure to be there Friday evening. It would be really nice if you came._

_I know you haven’t been sure about being ready for me to know who you are but it’s just me. I hope you know I would never out you to anyone else or pressure you to come out publicly if you didn’t want to. You’re so important to me and I just really want to see you in person. I mean, I’m sure I do see you in person, but you know what I mean. I want to know who you are. I don’t want to push you though so I’m giving you outs, you don’t have to come at all and I wouldn’t blame you at all, and even if you show up and change your mind you can just walk away before I see you or you can pretend you were just walking by coincidentally, it’s a quiet spot but people do go walking sometimes. Just. Think about it. It’s Tuesday, so that’s most of four days for you to consider and us both to internally freak out. I can’t believe I’m asking you this. I’ve just proofread like a hundred times but I still can’t believe I’m sending it. But I really do mean all of it. I’ll definitely be there, and I really really hope you will be too._

_Whatever you decide, I’m so grateful to know you, and I know that sounds cheesy but it’s true._

_Love,_

_Hanschen_

*

 

Going to Ilse’s and drinking on a Tuesday night with school the next day was probably a bad idea. It’s not like he drank much, but it was just enough to make him send that stupid fucking email and wake up with a headache.

Dogstar doesn’t email back right away, which is expected. When he does, late Wednesday night, it’s not a direct response.

 

_Dear Hanschen,_

_I’ve been reading bits of Othello when I can over the past few weeks and I finally finished it. I’m not totally sure how much I get it, but I can see why you like it. I’d really like to hear more of your thoughts now that I know about it._

_Also, have you heard the song Send Them Off by Bastille? They mention Desdemona._

_On the topic of music, we exchanged playlists a while back and I’ve been listening to some new stuff since then so I’m attaching another list if you want to listen to it. I really think you’ll like the first three especially._

_Love,_

_Dogstar_

_PS I got your last email and I’m not ignoring it, I promise. I’m just thinking._

Hanschen spends the next few days overanalyzing every interaction. Bobby Maler passes him a pen in math and their fingers brush and he thinks about the touch for hours, wondering if it could somehow have been intentional as some kind of hint. Ernst laughs at something he says at lunch and he finds himself thinking about the things that have entertained Dogstar and comparing their senses of humor. He overhears Max telling a friend he has plans on Friday and his heart beats faster at the possibility that the plans could be meeting him. He makes awkward eye contact with Reinhold and has a horrible moment of conviction that the whole thing was a plot by him all along. By Friday, he’s incredibly on edge, but also excited by the possibility that by the end of the day he might finally know.

 

*

 

Friday passes in a blur, and finally it’s the evening. He’s able to slip away early, since his parents haven’t cared as much whether he’s at family dinner lately, so when he gets to the vineyard there’s some sunset color in the sky, casting a golden glow over the vines.

He makes his way to his favorite spot and sits down against a tree. He’s not sure how long he’ll be here, so he makes himself comfortable. He’s brought some of his homework, and he pulls out a book to read.

Before long, it starts to get darker.

He closes the book. Sits around for a bit doing nothing, just looking around in the hope of seeing someone. Pulls out his phone, goes on data and refreshes his email. Answer’s Moritz’s text asking where he is. Plays some games. Refreshes his email again. Takes the book back out and reads by his phone’s flashlight.

By the time he’s been there about two and a half hours, he’s started to accept the fact that Dogstar isn’t coming.

At some point he drifts off, and is awoken some time later by a rustling sound nearby. His eyes fly open and he looks around to see someone walking in his direction. He jolts upright and stares up at the figure, just barely illuminated by the blue of the moonlight.

“Ernst?”

Ernst steps closer. He takes a deep breath and says, “Hi, Achilles.”

Hanschen stares at him. “It’s you? You’re Dogstar?”

Ernst takes another shaky step and awkwardly sits on the ground next to Hanschen. “It’s me.”

For a few minutes, they’re silent except for their breathing, and they just look at each other. Hanschen’s eyes dart over Ernst’s beautiful familiar face, taking him in, processing, reconciling Ernst from English and lunch with Dogstar, re-evaluating dozens of interactions. He’s liked these two people for so long – even loved them, if he’s honest with himself – and now they’re one person, and he’s seeing him completely new.

Eventually, Hanschen says, “So you’re –”

“Gay, yeah.” They both laugh, although neither of them would be able to explain exactly what’s funny. “Listen, Hanschen,” says Ernst when they calm down, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I was so scared. I wasn’t even sure I was going to come here tonight.”

He moves a bit closer, so they’re almost touching. “Let’s not be sad, Ernst. We’re here now.”

Ernst exhales. “I wouldn’t have been happy if I hadn’t come. I thought I’d made up my mind to stay home, but I started rereading the emails, and it’s like you said in your invitation to come here, I remembered how much I _like_ you, and I thought about you waiting here all alone, being brave, and I knew I had to finally be brave too.”

Hanschen crosses the space remaining between them and hugs him. Ernst gasps softly, his arms going up automatically to squeeze back. They hold each other tight for what feels like a long time, faces pressed into shoulders, the connection they’ve shared across the internet for months finally tangible.

They finally pull apart, but only partially, hands clinging to arms, foreheads touching. They stay like that, perfectly still, not speaking, for several moments.

Ernst is the one to break the silence, though he speaks so softly the words are almost lost in the breeze. “Do you wish it wasn’t me?”

“No,” Hanschen replies immediately, almost as quietly, though with force. “No, Ernst, I’m glad it’s you.”

 “Really?”

He smiles. “Ernst, after all the emailing I would like you no matter who you turned out to be, but finding out you’re my cute friend is definitely not a disappointment.”

“I’ve never liked anyone like I like you,” Ernst whispers. “I think I’ve been falling in love with you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Ernst nods, knocking their heads together, and they both laugh, a little giddy, before immediately sobering as Hanschen closes the distance to gently kiss his soft lips. Ernst returns the kiss, pressing closer. It’s awkward at first – they’re both inexperienced, and it shows – but they figure out the rhythm quickly, and soon they’re deepening the kiss, tongues cautiously darting out, Hanschen’s hands coming up to cup Ernst’s head and curl into his hair, Ernst gripping Hanschen’s jacket, and it’s a struggle to stop for breath, and Hanschen is so, so happy.

 

They talk, eventually, Hanschen leaning against the tree and Ernst leaning against Hanschen’s chest, their hands clasped. Ernst awkwardly tells him that he made that first post, all those months ago, because of his crush on Hanschen himself; Hanschen says that he’s found Ernst cute forever, and always wished they talked more. They talk about how they chose the names they used for the emails. Hanschen tells him about the moment Moritz told him about the post outing him. Ernst apologizes again for not saying something about who he was, and Hanschen shakes his head and says he understands. The sky grows darker and darker, but they barely notice.

“Do you want to tell people?” Hanschen asks.

“I think I do, yeah.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to, Hanschen. I don’t want to hide the way I feel about you. I want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want our friends to know me, like you said.”

“We’ll still have to be careful, you know.”

“I know. It won’t be easy. I’ve seen what you’ve been going through. But we’ll have each other.”

Hanschen presses a kiss to his hair. “That’s true. And our friends really have been great.”

“They’ll probably be thrilled.”

“How do you want to let them know?”

Ernst thinks about it for a minute. “Everyone’s getting together at Anna’s to watch a movie tomorrow night, right?”

“Oh, right. I’ve been so distracted with our stuff that I forgot about that.”

“But you’re going?”

“I’m planning on it.”

“Let’s show up together, then.”

They talk and talk, occasionally pausing to kiss, and by the time they reluctantly get up and head home, it’s pitch dark and well past their curfews, but when they kiss goodnight it’s hard to care.

 

*

 

When they knock on Anna’s door the next day, someone yells that it’s open, so they let themselves in and walk into the living room, holding hands.

The rest of their friends are already there, and there’s enough going on that no one notices right away. People glance over to see who’s arrived, and call greetings, but don’t look closely. It’s Moritz who eventually double takes, exclaiming, “Wait, is that why you made me get a ride from Melchior?”

He’s loud enough that everyone turns to look at what he’s reacting to, and there are some gasps and squeals as they take in how close they’re standing to each other and notice the linked hands.

Hanschen and Ernst grin.

“I’m gay,” Ernst says. “And I’m the guy Hanschen’s been emailing.”

“And we’re dating,” finishes Hanschen, laughing as Thea launches herself into a hug that encapsulates them both.

Everyone congratulates them enthusiastically. The two of them somehow end up sitting together in one armchair, Hanschen practically in Ernst’s lap, with all of their friends gathered around them, asking for the full story. They patiently answer everyone’s questions, and eventually everyone gets tired of interrogating them and they all turn back to eating snacks and someone puts on the movie so they can actually watch it.

Hanschen relaxes, leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

What comes next isn’t going to be easy. Ernst is going to have to tell his parents, which, considering his father is the pastor at the church, might not go well, and the already volatile situation with Hanschen’s parents won’t be improved by the introduction of a boyfriend. The assholes at school are not going to stop, and might even get worse for a while.

But they have each other, and they are surrounded by friends who love them. Hanschen is afraid, sure, but in this moment, none of the bad things seem important, and he’s filled with a deep conviction that they’re going to be fine.

Ernst kisses his forehead, and they glance at each other and smile before turning back to the screen.

 


End file.
